Mi, Where The I Stands For Improvise
by LongLoreLover
Summary: Rated M for romance, gang themes, violence, language. Drame is a boy who dances to be free, but school is getting all the more constricting. When one of his crew commit suicide after receiving life in prison, Drame vows never to dance again, until he meets up Tyler Gage, and the two get back at the world, one battle at a time.
1. The Life

**The actual story not being told by Drame will be bolded like this. I also do dance, but some of the moves depicted are made up, or may be confusing. I'm currently drawing up pictures because some moves technically doesn't exist, but I'm no Vicent Van Gouh. Also, some of these songs I actually made up myself too. I write lyrics, just not notes...And with that...Enjoy-LLL**

Journal Entry: 6,089- Union Ultimatium at 9:03 p.m.

Dance is my escape. It's more than learning how to flare, or being able to form a routine. For all of us, Sahara, Jean, Sam, Ret, and me, it's how we give back. We don't come from rich or smart parents, but they are loyal, and they make sure we come home safe from the dance battles we come from. Sometimes we lose, but the judges are usually bought and everyone can usually tell, we have a great crowd. My tale began when I was five, and I first tried Dance Dance Revolution. I was slow, but soon I was schooling everyone in the house. From then, I made dance about how I moved, how I felt and held myself. How I sidestepped kids in the hall so smoothly it was seamless. Kids could look at me and tell: I was a dancer.  
Then I'm met Sahara, actually I sidestepped at the same time she did, and in the same way, although she had a twirl that dazzled me. It's safe to say I still have a crush on her ten years later, which is now. Gotta go. Will be back when I've won the prize money.

**Drame stood, giving his journal to his father before kissing him on the cheek. His father hugged him quickly and said, "Go be you son." Drame nodded with a slight upwards tilt like when someone motioned, "Sup". His father ruffled Drame's hair, and Drame hurried to the others. They were all dressed in ragged clothes that were ripped, and Sahara sported a hat that faces to the side of her head. Sam, Ret, and Jean eached sported masks that had swirls and shadows on them. They looked like thugs, except for Drame, who was dressed like the gentleman.**

**His hair was short and black, combed in a modest look like someone who doesn't care for their hair, but they aren't oblivious. Drame had an all black suit that was crisp, yet smooth, almost silk-like in quality. There was no time, just a red rose that Drame held in his mouth. For this routine, they were dancing to the song "Bad Boy."-By World Renowned rapper Off da Chain, or OdC. They were going to have the bad boy be Sahara, while the others tried to be her, and shunned away Drame, who was the good dude, only Drame was their secret weapon. Because they were keeping him away so much, the crowd will be watching the others. Then Drame will blow their minds, and hopefully surprise the other team.**

"**Are we thugs ready?" Sahara asked, raising her hands above her head, and the group-Drame excluded- yelled, "Hell yes!"Drame inclined his head, ever the gentleman. They went inside, and the thump of the music still going meant they had walked in on another battle.**

**The two contestants were adults, which was not surprising. This was a big arena, and crews/ people of all ages danced and expressed. But much to Drame's dislike, this man was only doing bboy-moves, which while amazing, weren't nearly as cool as self-expression. From a counterclockwise flare, the bboy twisted in midair, throwing himself up as if to airflare before crashing down in a ball, and then using his momentum to swing himself to his feet. It was fleeting, yet Drame saw all of it, and smirked to himself. **_**I could school this clown any day of the week, even with me having to do homework...**_

"**What was that kid?"**

**Drame had spoken without realizing it, and half the crowd seemed to have heard him. The battle ended with the man ending in a Lotus-Baby Freeze, and then he looked at Drame, apparently having heard him too. "You wanna battle punk?"**

**Drame found it ironic that he was called the punk despite suiting up, but merely shrugged. He didn't want to get tired with this man, and then not be able to do the maneuvers. But Sahara nudged him forward and whispered in his air, "Ace this clown."**

**Combine that with her deep teal eyes, and his affection for her, and Drame was on the stage in seconds. He stood with his hands in his pocket, and the performer came out. **

"**Well well, it appears Bboy Brigade has a challenger. What your name kid?"**

**Drame smiled and said, "Drame."No Bboy or second name. The commentor smiled, he had seen Drame before. "Okay boys, we gonna do thirty seconds smashes, where you give us all you got. What song are you dancing to?" Brigade looked at the commentor, and then at Drame. **

"**Let him choose, seeing as it won't really matter."**

**Drame smirk stayed where it was, but his eyes flashed, and Sahara liked what she saw. A smooth dude clad in even smoother lookin clothing, and ready to earn some money. She placed the eighty dollars in the betting and smiled at the Bet Keeper. "Put it on the kid, Drame.**

"**Fire Burning by Sean Kingston."**


	2. The Floor

_*Finishes typing and wipers forehead* Oh my it took way too long to upload this story. I am deeply sorry. Next upload will be in a few days at most, I hope... Have a fabulous break.=)-LLL Oh and super ultra special thanks to Bahamut Crisis Core for the name of Drame's dance crew!_

Scene 2: Change of Plans

**The announcer smiled back at Drame, and raised his hands. "Alrigh ladies and gentleman, we doing it. Drame, you go first."**

**Drame inclined his head and dug his hands out of his pocket. **

**The song began: As the song began, Drame slid forward on the heels of his feet and then moonwalked in a circle before completing a 540 aerial twist and landing in a full-split. Rising at **_**Shorty got that super thang hotter than the sun in the South of spain, **_**he spun and smiled. He slithered forward on his knees, his mouth open and smiling as he made his body rubber, and his legs snapped from side to side. **_**My pockets started tickiliang, the way she dropped below that thang: **_**Drame empitied his pockets and then started Dougieing, spreading his legs and getting fly as he crossed his necks in front of his groin and leaned from side to side as he Cat-Daddied. **_**She getting popping, dropping, locking that birthday cake, **_**he shoved his right arm out in front of him before slicing his left hand vertically, and then jerking and isolating his different body parts before he spinning to the ground and then springing into his next position. Right before the chorus, he executed a gymnastics Roundoff to an upside-down Aerial Upside-Down Spinning Top, and then landed in a Flux Freeze, which looked like he was a leaning Weeping Willow in a storm. The crowd gasped and roared as Drame held the freeze to a complete stop, the control to stop the momentum came with only being a master of the move, and Drame's face was a smile, not a grimace or sign of strain. Ending it as the chorus began, Bboy Brigade started his arsenal of stunts, starting with some TopRock, then going into a Helicopter, and then a FloorSweeper, before flaring and Air-Flaring before twisting up, and landing in a Ball, and then ending in a Baby Freeze. **

**Drame rolled forward as the main chorus, **_**That little shorty fire burning on the dance floor, **_**and then did five Rubber Bands, falling back onto his upper back, pushing up to his feet to his arms, only to then throw himself back to the ground and catch himself before he hit it. Rising up on one hand, before Hand-Hopping to the beat, and descending and then ending in an air-chair. Then, hopping multiple times like the Cricket, and pushing himself up into a standing pose. He slid back and then rolling over, ended with a front head slide that ended in a Hollow-back the nearly touched the ground. As he walked back the final chourus began, **_**popping dropping that birthday cake**_**, Bboy Brigade started to Flare again, then went into a Cricket before he pushed up off the ground, pulled it with his hands, and commenced the Windmill, with hands however by the time **_**gotta cool her down arrived**_**. As he pushed off the ground after completing a few rounds, he air-flared once more, and then while in mid-air got to his feet, jumped, and ended in a half-split. He ended with a roundhouse kick slide into a half-split as Sean Kingston's voice faded away into the background. **

**The song ended, and the crowd shouted, "Drame!" Bboy Brigade look at them with confusion, and then pointed at Drame. "This ain't over kid. You gonna regret this."**

"**Is it my fault that you suck so badly that the crowd doesn't like you?" was his unfazed reply. Brigade's eyes widened, but he walked off the stage. Smiling, Drame watched as his crew ran to him. "Nice moves **_**sir**_**." Sahara teased while pecking him on the cheek. She knew he liked her, but he liked her alot more than she thought. The announcer quelled a very rambunctious crowd. **

"**Allrigh allrigh! We just witnessed some truly cool dancing. Now, two crews are to cap off the performances tonight, but we'll be here every night, because what's our motto?"**

**The roar was deafening, even Drame and his group joined in, it was so ingrained. "Don't Stop Tho Flow!" The whole 8000 person stadium chanted, and then a person started the Wave, arms grabbed arms as everyone moved up and down, and a person at the very end did the Seizure on the ground, as if the Flow was an electric shock. Several people near him laughed and the announcer regained himself. **

"**Tonight my brothers and sisters, elders and ancestors, I present to you, the Tennessee Tremors, who are actually from Tennessee, and your returning favorites: The Unpredictable!" The Tennessee Tremors all wore orange hats, and baggy clothing. There were seven of them, four women and three men. The men were each tall, but skinny, not lean, but almost malnourished looking while the women were more stockish. Sahara glanced at Drame, who had been looking at her as soon as they walked onto the oiled, wooden stage. She glided over to him, her face near his ear. "The women must be power dancers, the TT are famous for their hardcore toprock." **

**Drame's thin eyebrow went up. "How hardcore?"**

**Sahara chuckled. "They aren't going to take off their clothes like the Alcolytes did last year Drame! Jeez, let that go."**

"**Uhuh, you said that last year too..."**

"**After I stopped laughing yes."**

**Drame rolled his eyes playfully, and took a good look at the crew. They were arranged in a typical four in the back three in the front. Drame noticed the men were in front, and the women in the back. "Sahara, what do you think of the men?"**

**Sahara's eyes flashed for a second. "That they can't dance."**

"**Anyone can dance."Drame argued. Sahara shook her head, sending her long red hair into his face. He sputtered while she laughed. "We'll continue this talk later."she promised, and led the Unpredictable onto the stage, fist-punping the air and jumping. The crowd roared, tossing flowers, coins, pieces of paper, embroidery into a glorifying rain that covered both teams. Drame tilted his head up and spread his arms, closing his eyes as he soaked up the energy that the radiant crowd emitted, allowing himself to fill with the infectious thum. While he saw black, Sahara watched him out the corner of her eye, and fixed her hat. When Drame's eyes opened, he caught her gaze, and winked bashfully. She gave him a smile and the Unpredictable got into their formation, with Sahara and Sam taking the front, Ret and Jean in a straight line behind them, and Drame walked away from his crew, holding his hands in his pocket and facing his head down. **

"**Alrigh my people. The serenation has been completed. Which crew wants to go first?" The announcer asked. The Tennesee Tremors clapped, the men thumping their chests. Drame hoped they would break their sternums from the force they inflicted on their diaphanous endoskeletons, the men seemed like they weighed no more than 100 pounds each. The crowd roared one final time, and the announcer smiled. "Alrigh crowd. We have our three judges, and yourselves to see which crew gets the 1000 dollar prize tanight!" A note was suddenly passed to him. "Oh...it appears that the crews will not be dancing to **"_**Bad Boy" **_**by OdC. Instead, they will be dancing to "**_**WildFire"**_**, by SlickJelSchool."**

**The Unpredictable quickly exchanged confused glances before Drame looked at the judges, and then back at the TT. They were exchanging smiles and nods. **

"Oh, the dirty bastards want to cheat and dance to a song that they have a routine for. Fine! We aren't called the Unpredictable for nothing!"

**And the song began...**


	3. Headache

_**I apologize for the long wait, I've been facing a severe Writer's Block and then toying with multiple stories. So I settled with this one. I also apologize for the profanity in this chapter, this is an M chapter for language. Enjoy, and please review!**_

**Chapter 3: Headache**

_"Oh good, they chose a song we knew." _I thought. A strong techno beat started the song, drums pounding every three seconds while a corded electric melody whizzed, what you would expect if lightning could sing. The Tennessee Tremors turned their backs to us, and on what sounded like a thunder-clap, they started stomping their feet on the ground and stepping. The women in the back started scooching up to us, waggling their butts when a man vaulted over the girls with a non-tuck backflip . The whole group turned around with mock-awestruck expressions, hands on their faces as if in disbelief, as their group member did his solo. In front of Sahara he gave a look over and then scoffed before tutting. Seg-waying into my opinion what was rapid, although Elementary footwork, from the Spongebob to the Mama's Scrub. He mimed writing on a scratchpad as a strong thread of electric guitar whirred. Then he stepped back, and the women picked him up, making a throne out of their hands which he sat on while the men kissed his bare feet. Then he pointed us, and made a thumbs down before he jumped off and the whole group simultaneously pounded the ground.

The music ended with another thunderclap. The crowd roared, it had been awhile since a crew was as different, and had no bboying or girling whatsoever. The Tremors raised their arms in victory, as if they actually had this done already? The arrogance! The announcer whistled. "Damn, that Mama's Scrub was sick! Let me hear it for the Tennessee Tremors everyone." The people cheered and the announcer, who I always call, "Breezy" held the microphone to Sahara, who didn't blink once during the whole intimidation show.

"Yo Sahara, what did you think of the cru? Yay or nay?"Breezy asked. Sahara seemed to choose her words carefully. "They were...different. But hard for me to judge since only one member of their crew seems to be able to flop like a fish..." The man who was dancing started towards her, screaming in rapid obscenities with the rest of his crew when our crew got in the way. I stayed my place, Sahara was just getting under their skin, just as they had tried to do with ours. Breezy held the crews away from each other. "Back people. Okay Sahara, let's see what **you** think dancing is."

"Why Breezy, I'm the textbook definition of what dancing is."Sahara said. Breezy just smiled and walked off the stage. The stadium dimmed, and I watched the first round of our dance begin. A warning blare sounded in the sound for the second part of "_Wild Fire"_, and Sahara leaped forward on "**Let's Go**." The rap started:

**So many times I mean for hours  
The water was too cold for me to shower  
So I rode around till I could no more  
Passing Drug Dealers who were knocking on my door  
Uh**

Sahara landed on her knees and then propelled herself back up before air-walking to her left, holding the tip of her hat so her head was down before doing quick hand motions. The other team sneered and made thumbs-down but then Sahara jumped in front of man and started imitating **exactly** what he was doing, only by the end, she thrust her chest and arms outwards and then made an "x" over her pelvis before jumping and landing in a split. The crowd went wild, and I started laughing because the other crew was aghast with anger, fists balled.

Ret and Jean rolled forward while Sahara rolled backwards.

**Beat on that door  
Till can't no more  
This rap is sick  
The drums shake the floor  
Now watch this illness  
Be unleashed  
Become feral  
Unleash the beast!  
*Gasps*  
Like a wild Fire eh  
Like a wild Fire eh  
Like a wild fire oh  
Blow that door down uh!**

Ret and Jean linked their hands and did dual front-handsprings, landing before V-shooting their legs out. Ret got up and bowed, head all the way to the ground, before Jean slapped his butt and jolted him up. Foaming at the mouth, Ret threw his arms in an erratic-looking way, but he still had control, and roaring like a dog and sniffing the other crew before putting his hand on his nose and whining. Jean led Ret away, giving the Tennessee Tremors the "finger"as she and Ret retreated. Sam threw herself forward in the Superman-Suicide, pretending she was flying, and then colliding with the floor without flinching.

I chuckled as the TT watched their dreams get decimated, they thought changing the song would actually allow them to win, but we practice a routine for every song we listen to on the radio. This was one of our favorites. **  
**Sam finished by spinning around on her feet, faster, faster, she was a blur and yet didn't fall. Suddenly, she leaped forward, arms clawing and eyes wide. I couldn't help it, we all gawffed as one the TT women screamed and fell back in fright. An unfortunate member was in her way, and she fell on top of him. The rest of the group hurried to put themselves together, but the damage was done. We had broke the other team, the judges couldn't pretend to not see that, and most importantly, the crowd saw it; and they were ballistic. Cheers hit the roof and people hugged as everyone clapped, inversely people booed us and yelled in fury at us winning another night. I didn't ever have to dance, which was fine by me, I hadn't properly warmed up when I battled Brigade, I pulled a muscle in my lower back. It was all I could do to not lean over. **  
**The Unpredicable had won, we clapped each other and Breezy handed us a suitcase( "Return the suitcase fellas hehe." he said) and we made our way out to the seats where my parents were. From there, we'd head to the bathrooms. Why? It was a very well known fact that some dancers didn't make it back to their cars after these battles, they would be mugged, shot, just take a look at the movie" Stomp the Yard." Shot and mugged, friend was framed. So instead of one of my best friends dying, we snuck out through a secret entrance that took us under the sewers. We had to walk a few miles, but then we could get to our van. It was a pain, but if we could live to continue walking those miles, it was worth it.

Sam watched our backs while we left, making sure that no one was following us. Ret and Jean brought us to my mom and dad, who always took us, and encouraged us to try out new things. The fact that we earned dough from this didn't hamper their enthusiasm either, Ret and Jean's parents were okay with this also, although they didn't have a car, and worked very late at their respective jobs, so the twins had to take care of themselves. As we made our way, people clapped us on the back, praised our skills, blamed our youth, smiled even though they were cursing us on the inside. We went through the motions, and finally made it to my parents, Mr and Mrs. Joelagy.

My father was an economist for his company, which meant that he was the scapegoat for when figures and trends turned out wrong, and there were product shortages. He worked very late hours, and slept longer, as a result he had very grey hair even though he was only 37, and always was in a dress-shirt of some sort. A pencil was constantly wedged between his ear, if you removed it you would see a pencil print wedged into his head so thoroughly that the pencil fit back perfectly when he was done with it. My mother on the other hand was a food critic and inspector, with occasional enlistments in the National Guard. Numbers have been down recently, so she's been getting called away very often, as well for training of new recruits. The vigorous training, and her no-easy-way attitude is what pushed us to do our best on the dance floor the most, otherwise it was thirty push-ups when we got home. I mean I love dance because it is about expression, but doing it to avoid **more** physical activity is definitely another incentive.

My mother gripped me in a bear hug that made my back spasm. She felt it with her fingers. "Drame, are you ok?" she asked, holding at arms length to inspect me for other bruises.

"I pulled a muscle I think mom. Just didn't stretch before battling is all." I never lie to my parents, and this alleviates tension away from their teenage boy. My dad claps me on the back and then hands me back my journal. I smile as he ruffled my hair. "Now that was one for the books." he laughed.

"Did you get on camera when Sam made that guy fall?!" Sahara asks excitedly.

"Of course. Let's get out of here." he replies. We start out when the microphone comes on.

Her mom left after a quick fuck one day

Leaving poor Sammy so quicklay

The girl doesn't even know her mom's true name

Her dad was and is a drunk so he doesn't and didn't even notice

That his wife dumped his ass, he's married to a bottle

When strikes his daughter or throws glass

Sammy gives him her ass

He's a bum that can't stand on two legs

So this bitch sucks it instead...

We all turn to see the Tennesse Tremors clapping each other on their backs and make obscene mouth gestures. Sam stared, horrified as the man continued rapping, tears filling her eyes. Sam's life was extremely tortured, everything the TT had said was either true, or exaggerated. The part about her dad being a drunk was true, but Sam was afraid if she would live, and how would he, if a social worker was involved. Each one of us have housed Sam, but we never spoke about it. Yet these animals did! Breezy was now holding us back as the twins swore rapidly in Spanish, and Sahara shouted what sore losers they were.

"Sam..." Sahara warned, but Sam, instead of running to pound the Tremors' heads in, pulled out a pistol.

"Sam!" I yelled, grabbing the gun just as she fired. One of the men fell, clutching his face. In a flurry, faster than any dance move, Sam was tackled to the ground by security that seemed to have come out of nowhere, and medics were taking the man away. The TT yelled and were just barely contained by the remaining crowd. "Go!" a man said. I looked around to see handcuffs being put around Sam's arms, her eyes closed while she sobbed.

"Leave her alone!" I screamed, and pushed the cop off her. My head was pounding, this was not how this night was suppose to end. If we could just leave, that may make it better. I heard the jingle of keys somewhere, grabbed them, and started taking off the cuffs.

"Drame!" Sahara screamed, but the cop lashed the side of my head with his boot too fast, and I saw black.

**Until the next one, whenever that may be. Thanks again!-LLL**


	4. Gunshot

_Next chapter will be longer. Later!-LLL_

Two weeks later

We were standing in front of a judge, a large white man who looked utterly bored out of his mind, with his head resting on his hand as he tried not to fall asleep. Or die; the dude was about ninety. Sam stared in hatred at the wall to her left, not looking at the man she shot, who'd "luckily" survived, and not at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, Sam's face was guarded, no doubt different scenarios of what could've been playing out in her head. But I didn't think she was terrified, Sam was tough. She wouldn't cry anymore, and not in the face of the pricks who insulted her. ""_Words are only words, they can't hurt you, so you should have ignored them." _Everyone always says. No, people don't say. They preach, as if a person should just let their honor and life be talked about, and disregarded like they aren't worth anything? They don't understand that some things should just not be talked about, and that some things you must take action against. But the law is the law, and the assailant's lawyer stood up before shooting a fiery glare at the back of Sam's head? Why is he pissed, he's getting paid isn't he?

"Your honor, the evidence is self-sufficient. My client, Richard Alustio, was shot by this girl in front of you but two weeks ago. She illegally possessed a gun as a minor, and I believe attempted murder is also in order here. That is all." The lawyer sat down, and the jury looked down at Sam, before asking, "How did you come in possession of the gun?"

Sam looked at the jury. " How the hell do you think I got it? Robbed K-Mart? It was in my house. The streets are dangerous, so I carry it around with me."

"Why did you try to kill this man?"

Sam scoffed. "Please. My father was in the National Guard, if I wanted to shoot that piece of trash, I would've. He talked about my family, and my life, which is none of his damn business. I was warning him to stop talking. If I killed him, I'd get sentenced to life."

"Attempted murder basically has the same charge."

Sam threw up her hands. "Look I'm not going to let you screw with me, my honor is the only reason I'm here right now. Am I getting life in prison or not?!"

The room became quiet, as the judge looked at her.

"Yes." he answered.

Sam blinked, and croaked, "What?" The judge wiped his glasses with his sleeves. "It has been deemed by this court that you, as a juvenile delinquent, serve your term until you turn 18, and then be transferred to a secure facility, for life in prison, without chance of parole."

My parents, Sahara, Ret, Jean, and other witnesses, including Breezy, shouted in defiance and swore at the accuser, Sahara even going so far as to say she'll see him tonight. Samatha's eyes darted all over the room as officers moved towards her. She started screaming for her dad, who just looked at her with shame from the third bench. He shook his head and walked out, bottle in hand. I was completely ready to go after him and take his bottle, convince him to stop being such a drunk and help his daughter, but my voice didn't carry, I couldn't find the ability to speak. The jury cracked his mallet from hitting it so much on the lectern, until the police had to push us out. One of them grabbed Sam's arm, but she punched him in the gut with her other one. The last thing I saw of her, she grabbed an officer's' gun, and the doors slammed in my face as a gunshot rang out on the other side.


End file.
